


Little by Little

by Mrs_Colette



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2019-12-30 03:47:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18307556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mrs_Colette/pseuds/Mrs_Colette
Summary: After giving Viktor a Muggle 'Everyday Holiday" calendar as a joke for Yule, they use it as a way to reconnect. This is a series of drabbles for their romance to unfold.





	1. February

February 9th, 2006

Hearing a knock on her office door, Hermione looked at the time, and waved an arm to allow the mail wizard entry. Smiling at the young man with a bin of her mail, she stifled a sigh as she pulled it toward her. She began sorting right away, knowing that she would have another almost as full this afternoon. Setting aside the stack of what she was sure were requests for consultation from other ministries, and throwing a few select letters directly into the fire, she removed a small package from the bottom of the bin, making her way back to her desk. As she sat in her Muggle style, plush leather chair, she couldn’t resist shaking the box, gently, trying to discern it’s contents. There was any slight rattle, but nothing that would give away the contents. There was a small card tucked under the scarlet ribbon, and she removed it before setting the box aside for the moment.

_Moyata anglichanka roza,_

_When I saw the calendar page this morning, I immediately thought of you. More so than usual, that is, as I am reminded of you every time I look at it. I must tell you my father saw it yesterday morning. He didn’t say anything, merely scowled at it as though it’s mere presence was offensive._

_How are things with the Merfolk? I admit, I am quite intrigued by the thought of trade being established amongst their clans. There are a great many who would benefit from such a relationship, but whatever could we have to offer them? They seem so self-sufficient, they have existed for centuries without our trade. They have much to offer us, that is for certain, but from where I sit the balance is not in our favor._

_Nothing new to report here, but I am beginning to train for a match in early May. Just a bit of an exposition match, for the graduation ceremony. It’s not much, but I don’t want to embarrass myself, so I need to get these aged bones back in shape. Maintaining the estate is tedious, but it is certainly not physically demanding enough to keep me satisfied. Maybe I should start accepting more of the offers for pick up games on the weekends. As I am being reminded I have yet another business lunch to get ready for, I will leave this short note here. Take care, mila._

_Regards, Viktor_

Hermione smiled, setting the note to the side. Unwrapping the package, she laughed as she saw the contents of the shoebox sized box. Lifting each out one at a time, toothpaste, floss, toothbrushes, oh Merlin, was that a tongue scraper? She lost her composure entirely when she saw the set of chattering teeth in the bottom. Her father loved them, and she thought of him as she turned the key on the side of the teeth, setting it down on her desk. As she watched it walk across her desk, she picked up the package to move it out of the way. In the bottom of the box was a five inch square piece of paper, torn from the desk calendar she had given him for Yule, emblazoned with today’s date. On the bottom it said **International Dentist Day**.


	2. April

April 13, 2006

Hermione rushed into the Owlery, cursing as she almost slipped in the centuries of droppings that coated the stone stairs. She never understood why the Hogwarts elves never cleaned them, she had easily had at least one serious fall a year while she had been in school. Slowing her pace to avoid a repeat as she reached the roosting area, she called out for a willing messenger. A large black owl hooted softly at her as it glided down to a post to allow her to tie the small package to it’s leg.

“Hello, you beautiful thing,” Hermione cooed, reaching out a finger to stroke her feathers. “This has a long way to travel, all the way to Bulgaria. Are you up to the flight?”

“My apologies, I meant no disrespect,” she chuckled at her indignant hoot, tying the package to her outstretched leg. “Please take this to Viktor Krum, but you don’t need to wait for a reply.”

That evening, in Sofia, Viktor was trying valiantly to stay attentive to his solicitor as the wizard was reconciling the monthly changes to the estate. He almost sighed in relief when a large black owl swooped in through the open window, landing on his desk. Smiling as he saw the neat handwriting on the address label, he waved an imperious hand in Mr. Akulov’s direction, cutting the man off mid sentence. Viktor rushed out something sounding like a dismissal, and stood to shake the man’s hand. Retaking his seat, not bothering to wait and watch him leave the room, Viktor pulled the package to him, untied the twine and opened the box. The owl hooted softly, and Viktor smiled as he reached into the jar of owl treats on his desk.

“Thank you for your flight, _coba,_ ” he chuckled, parting the birds head absently as she wolfed down the treat. “If you make your way to the roost you can eat something more substantial and rest for the night. There won't be a reply.” The owl nodded at him before taking to the air, the papers left by his solicitor fluttering to the floor in her wake. Returning his attention to the box, he saw there was a note on top, the familiar five by five inch size making his smile grow.

_Viktor,_

_I hope this finds you well! We skived off for the afternoon to visit Hagrid at Hogwarts today, and it has been a delightful break. Ginny harangued poor Mrs. Tediore horribly, although I have tried to explain to Ginny multiple times that she is simply the office aide, and not my personal secretary. She has been suffering from the worst cabin fever these last few months of this pregnancy, so she dropped James off with her mother and decided to come harass me into joining her. Misery loves company, so I casually mentioned to her how unfortunate it was that Harry and Ron have spent the last few weeks working the most insane hours. It only seemed fair that Ginny and I coerced them into coming with us._

_Harry didn’t take any convincing at all, naturally wanting to be wherever Ginny would be, but Ron only agreed to come along when I told him we would be able to visit Hogsmeade. He thinks himself clever, but we all know he’s had a thing going with a lovely witch that works at Honeydukes. Ginny and I made sure to take our time making our selections, and it was quite fun watching Ron turn varying shades of red. While we were taking yet another look around at the selections, I thought of today’s page and couldn’t help myself. Although everyone thought me quite odd for dashing off to the Owlery quite so quickly, I just had to make sure you got this today. I hope that I haven’t interrupted anything important, my apologies if so._

_Good luck in the match, it’s in just a few weeks, right? I wish I could be there, at least for support. You know I’m not much for the game itself, but I would love to see you!  Not to mention everyone would be positively green with envy if I got to see you play. That is one good thing about skipping those casual weekend games, when you do take to a broom you always do a lot of good for the causes you are supporting. I’m not sure if I mentioned it, but I am truly in awe of all the charity matches you play in. It’s touching to see someone using their celebrity to do a bit of good in the world. I must say, I am a bit jealous, I only ever get asked to attend galas and ribbon cuttings. It would be nice to do something with a bit more pizazz. Alright, I am going to end this here so that whichever unlucky owl gets this will hopefully be able to get it to you today._

_-Hermione_

_P.s. Promise me you will brush your teeth after all of this sugar!_

  
He peeked in the box as he turned the paper over, and his face broke out in a childlike grin as he saw that it was absolutely packed to the brim with red and black vines of his favorite candy. He hadn’t much of a sweet tooth, but these were a guilty pleasure. Hermione had often bribed him with the anise wands to buy herself some quiet study time during the Triwizard Tournament. Looking back at the paper, he saw the date and below it **Licorice Appreciation Day**


	3. May

May 11, 2006

Hermione was sitting in the small garden behind her townhouse, drinking her customary coffee before leaving for the Ministry and reading over her notes for the Centaur relations treaty she was hoping to ratify that day. She was a bundle of nerves, this was certainly the most influential bit of legislation she had taken charge of, and people had already begun whispering about the impact of its success on the Wizarding world and Hermione’s career. Rationally, she knew that the coffee wasn’t helping, but she needed the calm of routine, and in that vein of comfort, had chosen the World’s Best Sister mug that Harry had given her a few years ago. Glancing back down at her notes, she heard the rustling of wings. Not thinking much of it, she took another sip of her coffee, grimacing at it’s cool temperature. Casting a quick warming charm, she took another sip, peering up at the sky as the sound of wings grew closer. Bringing her mug back up to her lips, she began to swallow, choking when she saw a giant white stork landing very ungracefully in her azaleas.

She rose from her chair cautiously, unsure of how to react. The stork took several steps toward her, it’s long neck bobbing with each step it took. When they reached each other, witch and bird eyed each other warily, Hermione not having the slightest inclination how what to do. She jumped when the bird lifted it’s left leg, relaxing when she spied a small package tied there. Detaching the missive from it’s unlikely messenger, she startled again when it took flight, it’s massive wings stirring up a cloud of leaves and dust. Sneezing, she opened the package, the note there on top for her to read. Setting it aside for the moment, she peeked in the box, smiling at the jar of charmed confetti, two tiny bottles of Champagne, some Casa Kakau chocolate bars, and noisemakers. Picking the note back up, she began to read.

_Moyata anglichanka roza,_

_I admit I looked ahead to see what this day might bring, as I wanted to send you something to celebrate with this afternoon. I won’t tell you how early I had to get up to ensure this got to you before work this morning, but I had a feeling you may need the distraction. I will keep this brief so that I can attempt to get a few more hours of rest, but I am cheering you on, mila. We have a contact at the Ministry who will keep us abreast of your hearing with the Wizengamot today, and I daresay you will be able to feel my pride all the way from Sofia. Please make sure to make use of these to celebrate your success._

_Yours,_  
_Viktor_

Turning the note over, the last of Hermione’s nerves evaporated as giggles erupted from her throat when she read, written under the date, **Migratory Bird Appreciation Day.**


	4. June

June 10, 2006

Nodding at his mother as he took his seat at the breakfast table, he helped himself to the generous spread the elves had laid out. He picked up the sports section of the Sofia Standard, waiting for his father to finish with the business section. His mother had the social pages, and they passed the breakfast hour in pleasant silence, the rustling of pages and clinking of silverware the only noise in the grand space.

His father cleared his throat, but before he could speak, Mitko appeared at Viktor’s elbow.

“Package for Master Viktor,” his elf said formally, and Viktor reached out to take the emerald green box from the elf.

“Thank you Mitko,” he murmured, ignoring his father’s scoff at the interaction.

Rising from the table, he walked over to where his mother was still sitting, pressing a kiss to her hand, and inclining his chin in his father’s direction.

“If you will excuse me, I shall retire to my office to open this.” His mother reached up, a tender look on her beautiful face, and Viktor leaned down so she could cup his chin in a delicate hand. She squeezed once, gently, before releasing him with a smile.

"Son," his father began, but Viktor cut him off with a sharp nod.

"Thank you, sir," he murmured, and with an inclination of his father's head, finally left the room.

 In his office, he opened the meticulously wrapped package, restraining himself from a childlike desire to rip the foil paper to shreds. The expected note was on top of the Spellotaped box, and he eagerly began to read it.

_Viktor,_

_HAPPY BIRTHDAY! It is so strange to me to think that someone I know is thirty. Does it feel strange? I used to think thirty to be so ancient, and now that I am nearing it myself, while also considering how much longer my lifespan has become from what I expected, it seems like barely the beginning of the adventures I could have._

_My goodness, that’s a maudlin way to start this, isn’t? How dreadful! I will blame the uneasy night’s sleep I had for my morose thoughts. I spent the night with Luna at the Manor, and the dark elegance of my appointed rooms must have crept into my subconscious. Unfortunately Luna still struggles with her memories of the time she spent in the dungeon, and she is trying to heal the wounds that left. She is quite fond of Draco, and it is troubling him to see the changes that spending time in this house can have on her. Luckily she managed a full week before Flooing me (blaming a sudden infestation of dwinge toads or some such nonsense on her unease), so I think she is making good progress!_

_It is quite early here, but I wanted to get this to you before you had left the castle. I would hate for my package to get lost in your mountains of fan mail. There are two gifts for you in the box, the first being a photo from my trip to Newfoundland a few weeks back to meet with the Nennorluk delegation. That was such a magical trip, no pun intended. The second will need some explaining, but I am confident you will enjoy them. There are two kinds, one for yourself, and the other for those unbearable meetings. The black one is yours, the blue ones came from Weasley’s Wheezes. They are like an inkless quill. Just take the cap off, and write away. So much cleaner, and no bulky ink bottles to carry around. I will warn you, the blue ones explode, but it’s a very small explosion and the ink does disappear eventually, George promised. He doesn’t even carry this line in the store yet, so he would be grateful for your feedback, if you could send him a letter with the results._

_I will let you get back to your day, I’ve rambled in this letter long enough, I am sure that your parents are eager to celebrate with you. Thirty, I still can’t believe it!_

_All my love,_

_Hermione_

Viktor set the letter on his desk with a sigh, a tinge in his heart at Hermione’s assumption that he had spent the morning in a cheerful birthday breakfast. He opened the box and there on the top was a wizarding photo of Hermione, standing much to close to the edge of a seaside cliff for Viktor's liking, her hair blowing wildly in the Newfoundland breeze, her cheeks rosy and smile wide. 

He ran his finger over the image, her face occasionally obscured as the curls danced, her arm waving madly. He tucked the photo into a frame on his desk, covering the formal family portrait that had been there previously. 

Looking back into the box, he was surprised to see what looked like metal tubes. Remembering Hermione’s words, he lifted the lone black one out, removing the cap from the end. He enjoyed the feel of it in his hand, it seemed more substantial than a quill, and also quite modern. He took a few tentative swipes on a piece of parchment he had lying on his desk, his eyes widening at the bold black ink that spilled out. 

Deciding he liked this gift very much, he began to chuckle as he thought of introducing muggle writing tools around his father’s office. His chuckle grew into full bellied laughter as he imagined his father using one of the blue ones himself. Curious, he looked at the calendar on his desk, and under the date, it said **Ballpoint Pen Day**.


	5. July

July 30, 2006

Hermione groaned as she turned away from the remains of the dinner dishes, the loud crash she had heard in the other room a much more pressing concern. Casting a drying charm on her hands before lifting baby Albus from his bassinet, she followed the source of the noise.

“JAMES SIRIUS POTTER!” She shrieked, taking in the state of the living room. Somehow the angelic looking 15 month old had managed to remove all of Harry's DVDs from their cabinet below the television in mere moments, and he was now standing on the haphazard pile as he reached for the remote. 

“I told you to help me clean the kitchen,” she sighed, her heart turning to mush as he turned his adoring gaze to her.

“Ca-toons,” he pleaded, pointing at the black screen. “Ca-toons!”

“After we clean up our mess!” She insisted, reaching for his hand and tugging him back toward the kitchen. James dug his heels in, but at thirty-five pounds he was no match for the witch.

“Don't wanna cween,” he pouted, trudging reluctantly along behind Hermione, realizing he wouldn't win this battle.

“Are you sure? I need a big helper to sweep up all the crumbs,” she cajoled, knowing James’ love of all things broom. She had laughed earlier when Ginny told her that James had a newfound fascination with tidying, believing that every broom had the capability of flight if he just tried hard enough, but she was grateful for the insider information now. 

“Bwoom?” He chirped, a wonderful look of glee coming over his face. 

“Yes, James, with the bwoom, err I mean broom,” Hermione replied as they reentered the kitchen, settling the still sleeping Albus back into his bassinet. She paused for a moment to admire his squishy newborn features, grateful that he was as yet so easy to manage. Merlin help Ginny when they both had the ability to walk. Hearing another crash behind her, this time from the direction of the pantry, she removed her wand from her sleeve and turned, preparing herself for the battle that would be cleaning the kitchen.

Later that evening, both boys blessedly asleep, she took a sip of wine as she turned the television to the BBC. Lowering the volume so she could hear if Albus fussed, or more likely, James got out of bed, she settled in to wait for Harry and Ginny. It had taken some convincing, but they had joined Ron and Mona that evening on a double date, Ron having finally admitted to his friends what was going on between the pair. After quite a bit of ribbing that he was only after her for her employee discount, he had invited all of them out to get to know her. Not desiring to be the odd fifth wheel of sorts, Hermione had volunteered to watch James and Albus, claiming rightfully that she never had enough time alone with the pair, as Molly rarely let them out of her arms when they were all at the Burrow.

She took another sip of her wine, resolving to get a peek at the label when she got her inevitable refill, and her thoughts turned to what her friends were doing that evening. They had been gentle with her single state, especially after her last disaster of a blind date with a 'glory seeker’ - one of those witches and wizards who only desired to talk about the Trio's role in the war. She was content, she decided firmly, in a job that was incredibly rewarding, there was even talk of a promotion in her future after the success of the Centaur treaty, and she had a cozy flat that was hers and hers alone. It would be nice to have someone to come home too, she admitted, but it was so difficult to find a wizard who wasn't intimidated by her success or had false expectations of her role as a woman. 

She heard the rustling of an owl coming in the window, and she turned to see a familiar long eared owl perching on the end table, peering at her.

“Hello Boris,” Hermione cooed, unable to pronounce the bulgarian name the owl actually held. She enjoyed the coincidence with her first meeting of his owner immensely. She reached forward and took the package from the owl, setting in on her lap before crooking her finger to give him the scratch on the back of his neck he enjoyed. “Harry and Ginny are all out of treats, I’m afraid, but I think I may have heard a nice juicy vole skittering around by the shed.”

The owl peered at her, large eyes unblinking before nipping her finger gently and flying back out the way he came in. Hermione waved her wand to spell shut the window tucked in the eves of the living room, a Pureblooded convenience that had been unchanged during the extensive renovation of Grimmauld Place. She always forgot to close it, and was grateful for the reminder. Turning her attention back to the box on her lap and sliding her wand into the knot on top of her head, she took another sip of wine while untying the string holding the box closed. 

She took out the small envelope inside, smiling at the bold script written across the front, a soft laugh escaping when she realised it had been written with the Montblanc she had given Viktor for his birthday. In the process of turning the card over, she spotted what was inside the box, and she couldn't help the squeal of excitement that escaped her lips. Forcing herself to read the letter first, she took a deep breath while opening the small letter.

_ Moyata anglichanka roza, _

_ I hope that this letter finds you well. I shall keep this brief, for I am sure that you have already seen what awaits you. I am taking a page from your novel, as they say, and sneaking off from my duties today. I was in Smolyan with Mother, visiting her sisters, when I was called to Thessaloniki to play prized stallion for some of Father’s Quidditch mad business associates. However, there was a mixup at the border, delaying me; and by the time I made it, the meeting had already begun, so I found myself with some unexpected time on my hands. I wandered the streets of Greece, lost in memory, when I found myself outside of Trigona Elenidi. Do you remember it? I had used today’s page to note the location of the meeting, but seeing as I was in it’s birthplace, I couldn’t resist sending you a sweet memory. _

_ Moya luybov, _

_ Viktor _

Hermione allowed her mind to wander over the memories of her own business trip turned unexpected holiday in Greece. Viktor had come down to show her the sights, and they had finished most evenings in the magical bakery nestled in Muggle Thessaloniki. 

Summoning a fork from the kitchen, she lifted the tray from the box, unwrapping the cellophane and taking a deep breath of air now scented with honey. She took a bite, moaning at the sweetness lingering on her tongue. She closed her eyes, almost feeling the Grecian sunlight on her face as the flavors burst in her mouth. Opening her eyes, she turned the note over, her eyes falling on the words imprinted there.  **International Cheesecake Day.**


	6. August

August 9, 2006

 

Viktor took another sip of a truly horrid cup of coffee, grimacing as he set the cup down. He couldn't bring himself to complain, given the current situation. He sat up in bed, flinching slightly as the bandages across his chest pulled tight. His mother looked over at him, a concerned look on her face, and he smiled softly at her worry. 

"I am fine, maika," he murmured, watching her rise from her chair, crossing the room to fuss with his pillows. He allowed her to straighten the bed linens, her hands lingering on his shoulders. 

"Rest now, lyubima," she scolded lightly, moving the newspaper he had been perusing out of his reach. She leaned down to press a kiss to his cheek, her small hand running across his forehead, just like when he was a boy and suffering a simple summer cold.

He clasped her hand gently in his, pressing a kiss to the soft skin on the back. She smiled again, and made her way across the room. The noises in the hallway intruded on the quiet of his room, and she slipped out quickly, closing the door firmly behind her. Viktor settled into the mounds of pillows, closing his eyes, grumbling softly as he thought of all the work that would be awaiting him back in Sofia. 

He had just finished cataloging them into priority order, beginning to drift into a light doze when he heard the door open again. 

He opened an eye to see a young witch cradling a large box on her hands, nerves evident on her face. 

"This came for you, Monsieur Krum," she stuttered in heavily accented english.

"Merci, mademoiselle…"

"Delacour, Monsieur," she supplied, a blush filling her cheeks. 

"Delacour?" He replied, a genuine smile blooming on his face. He looked more closely at her, and recognition dawned. "I am pleased to make your acquaintance again, mademoiselle Gabrielle, this time under much drier circumstances."

Gabrielle laughed, the sound tinkling through the room.

"I am honored you remember me, Monsieur Krum," she smiled at him, handing him the surprisingly heavy package. 

"Call me Viktor," he said absently, his fingers running across the familiar script on the address label. 

"Merci, Viktor," she said softly, taking a few steps back to the door. "I shall leave you to your mail."

"Tell Fleur I said hello," he smiled, lifting his eyes to meet hers. "And pass along my congratulations, I hear you have a nephew."

"Oui, Louis."

Gabrielle dipped into a muted curtsey, a blush once more filling her cheeks. She smiled at him shyly before ducking back out into the bustling hallway.

Viktor wasted no time tearing into the package, eyes widening as he saw the various trinkets tucked inside. Moving aside a small jade statuette, he lifted the expected envelope from the jumble of objects. He paused, eyes passing over the odd array of gifts before settling the box to the side and settling in the read the missive. 

_ VIKTOR ALEKSANDER KRUM, _

_ HOW DARE YOU!  _

_ Imagine my horror when I finally received my copy of the Daily Prophet, two days late, only to be forced to watch, over and over again, a damned magical photo of your foolhardy stunt!  _

_ Ron couldn't understand my alarm, prattling on and on about the supposed 'brilliance' of that dangerous maneuver, completely disregarding the recklessness of such a ridiculous dive. I have spent the evening wavering between concern for your well-being and feeling such a melancholy that you would be injured in a silly Quidditch match in France while we are traipsing through South America. Count yourself lucky, for if I had been home I would've been by your side in an instant, if only for the gratification I know I would find in berating you in person.  _

_ I am truly grateful you will not suffer any lasting damage, and Ron was quick to remind me of the inherent danger of the sport, as though I hadn't spent six years lecturing he and Harry both on the very subject. I was quite in shock when I read that you had even been playing in the match, although the sum your participation has raised for the Orphelinat de Versailles was truly awe-inspiring. How did you become involved with that project? _

_ Our trip has been wonderful, and I find the views of the people here regarding the sovereignty of magical creatures to be so refreshing. They work together in beautiful harmony, enriching the lives of all involved, and it is a model I hope to replicate with their neighbors to the north. That there is so much more to gain from a symbiotic relationship seems so elementary to me, and it is always frustrating when I have to argue for something so simple. Ron has accompanied me at George's request, and the spellwork he has already picked up has me fearing for the sanity of Professors the world over, come the release of their spring products. _

_ I have sent along some of the many gifts we have been given by the magical communities here, although it appears I should've sent this along sooner. The Amulet of Ekeko would've been a welcome addition to your Quidditch uniform, for it is imbued with several protection spells, some older than Hogwarts itself. It is merely a reproduction, so please avail yourself of its use in any future matches, for my peace of mind.  _

_ I shall close this here and let you get some rest. I am pleased you are well, and I am eagerly awaiting the opportunity to reassure myself you are still in one piece in person at the opening ceremonies of the Tri-Wizard Tournament next month.  _

_ Ron wishes me to add his congratulations on winning the match, and I send my own, half hearted as they may be, with his. _

_ All my love,  _

_ Hermione _

Viktor stifled a laugh at the indignant tone of her letter, his still mending ribs protesting the action. He held the letter in his left hand as he rifled through the box, looking for the amulet she had mentioned. He found the rough hewn gold necklace in the bottom of the pile, and he withdrew it carefully. Admiring the turquoise pendant for a moment, he slipped it awkwardly over his head one handed. 

Leaning back into the pillows, slightly out of breath, he was surprised to feel a wave of magic wash over him. Tentatively lifting his left arm, he was pleased to feel significantly less pain at the action. Lowering his arm, he turned the note over to read the day's cause for celebration.  **Indigenous Peoples Appreciation Day** .


End file.
